


The Shadow on the Moon at Night

by ladydragona, SylviaW1991



Series: Simply Meant to Be [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nightmare Before Christmas Fusion, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Body Horror, Consent is Sexy, Consentacles, Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashback, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Patchwork Aziraphale, Tentacles, brief off and on screen abuse, improper use of eldritch powers, intentional beheading, plug and play genitals, pumpkin king crowley, revenge served cold and terrifying, the whump is in the past and lots of comfort follow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragona/pseuds/ladydragona, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991/pseuds/SylviaW1991
Summary: A chance encounter with Michael has Aziraphale bringing up old memories and Crowley unleashing tucked away powers. He uses them for his angel in two very different ways.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Meant to Be [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981459
Comments: 24
Kudos: 120





	The Shadow on the Moon at Night

**Author's Note:**

> ladydragona  
> So this started as Syl wanting to write some angst and it got away from us. You're welcome.
> 
> Syl  
> And it ran  
> It ran so far away  
> It just ran  
> We couldn't get away
> 
> Also, hey, remember when Ligur said he'd ripped out Aziraphale’s voice box? 👀

As November ticked into December, Aziraphale cheerfully strolled through Halloween Town on the arm of his favourite being. There was a basket on his other arm, filled with apples from R.P.'s orchard and his own sewing. There was nothing better than an afternoon spent in the woods with his beloved and, while he knew it to be a silly fantasy, sometimes he wouldn't mind staying amongst the trees. 

A little cosy cottage, perhaps, with just the two of them. Perhaps they could plant their own apple tree. It could be lovely, but it wasn't a dream he'd yet given voice to. Not when Crowley had his duties as Pumpkin King and not while Aziraphale was still marveling over being able to be in town at all. 

Just over a single year had passed, freedom still such a fresh, sweet taste on Aziraphale’s tongue. “I think I'll make a few bottles of wine with this batch. You always drink them so quickly,” he teased, as if he wasn't just as much to blame. 

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale from the corner of his eye as they approached the town square, fingers caressing the fabric hand tucked into his elbow. “S'not my fault you brew good wine. Deserves to be drunk, I'd say.”

Aziraphale wiggled cheerfully. “I'll have to hide a bottle away for Christmas.” Silk lashes playfully fluttered. “We are celebrating it, aren't we?”

“'Course we are. I have a theory, you know, that ol' Sandy has to pop up wherever Christmas is being celebrated. Wanna see if we can make him show up again.”

“Oh, I hope it snows like last year. It was lovely.”

Crowley threw his head back and groaned. “Do you want a snake popsicle? Because that's how you get a snake popsicle. I'll send someone to Christmas Town and get you snow if you want it so bad.”

“I like it freshly fallen. Besides, dearest, I believe I know how to keep you warmer now than I did then. You'll be just fine.”

“Fiiiiine, so long as you don't expect me to go out in it,” Crowley grumbled playfully, squeezing the hand in his grasp while a blush coloured his cheeks. “Got a perfectly good view from the parlour window.”

“I suppose I'll just have to take a walk all by myself, then.” As dramatically as he could, Aziraphale sighed. “On what's technically our anniversary.”

Crowley gaped at him, mouth working soundlessly for a moment. “Wha- That's- You _bastard_.” He loved him so fucking much. “Knew I shoulda just have swept you up on Halloween and kissed you senseless then.”

“You should have, yes.” Though Aziraphale didn't know what he would've done. He'd still been following orders, then. He hadn't been brave enough nor wise enough yet to go against the Angels. He liked to think he would've fallen eagerly into Crowley’s arms and stayed there, as he'd certainly dreamt of it, but he wasn't certain. 

Things had worked out just fine, however, even though certain things still gave Aziraphale pause. Like the very put-upon sigh that suddenly made his grip tighten. 

“Aziraphale.”

“Hello, Michael.”

Crowley did nothing to hide his glare and tugged Aziraphale just that much closer to his side. “Did you need something, Michael?”

They barely looked Crowley’s way, most of their eyes lingering on the patchwork being. There was malice there. Aziraphale wasn’t used to something so outright from Michael, far more used to their bland disapprovals and blank indifference. Actual fury was new. “No. Not yet.”

Aziraphale could see the curve of an egg cradled in their palms just as they flashed away, and he huddled closer to Crowley. Were they going to bring... They couldn't, could they? 

Could they? 

The trembling of Aziraphale's hand, whole body really, had alarms ringing in Crowley's head. He gently tugged Aziraphale off of the main street and into a nearby alley, bundling him against his chest. “Hey, s'alright, love.”

 _Not yet_ , they'd said. What were they planning? Were all of the Angels in on it? What were they going to do? 

Aziraphale hid his face against Crowley’s shoulder, letting the basket fall so he could cling to him properly. “They must blame me.”

“Blame _you_? Angel, I'm the one who stole you away. Let me take the heat for this.” He ran his fingers through Aziraphale's curls and rubbed his nose against his temple in an attempt to soothe. 

“Oh, darling, no, I... For Ligur. They had an egg, and I think...” Aziraphale's fingers flexed in the fabric of Crowley’s jacket. “Michael's intelligent enough to bring him back, I'm sure.”

Crowley didn't understand what Ligur had to do with anything. He had been nothing but a little peon of Lucifer's, but it was obviously important enough to distress Aziraphale more than any confrontation with Gabriel ever had. “Let them. Just gives me another chance to kill the slimy git again.”

“No, I-” Aziraphale clearly needed to explain. “Crowley, I'd like to go home. Now, please.”

That was an easy enough request and one Crowley was more than willing to accommodate. “Of course, love.” He scooped Aziraphale up, tucking him safe and close, and grabbed the dropped basket before weaving his way through mostly empty alleys and between tightly packed buildings. Knowing Aziraphale would prefer to not be seen in such a state, he kept them both hidden. Luckily home was not very far and soon loomed safely ahead.

“Here we are, angel,” Crowley said as he set him down on the sofa. “Cocoa? Nibbles?” 

“Oh, dearest, do I seem that bad?” Aziraphale offered him a weak smile, relieved though he was to be safe at home. 

Crowley kissed his forehead and gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Just making sure my angel has everything he wants and needs.”

His weak smile warmed with adoration. “You precious thing. Just sit with me, and I'll have everything which matters.”

“Stop that, m'not precious,” he grumbled but still slid next to him, pulling Aziraphale's legs over his knees and wrapping his arms around his middle.

Crowley was exceptionally precious as far as Aziraphale was concerned. “Should I just say you're a wonderful mate, then?”

That made his snake-half preen and a warmth coil in his belly. “Guess I can accept that one.” The trembling had stopped, but Aziraphale still seemed tense. “And as your mate, it's my job to keep you safe. No one's taking you away, I promise.” 

“I know, Crowley, and I do trust you. It's only...”

“Only what? You can tell me anything, angel.”

Aziraphale hummed. He did know, really, but he also knew how protective his serpent could be. Aziraphale cupped his chin, felt the cool skin warming against his palm because he wanted to. “You know how sensation is, ah, unusual for me?” Because he'd only ever trusted Crowley with that information, and would likely never trust anyone else. “Well, Ligur... He and Michael were friends of a sort. I don't quite understand how or why, but I know they chatted because he... He came to the manor sometimes. When I was in terrible trouble and needed some, er, extra intervention. Because he can... He's actually able to hurt me. I don't want him to be brought back.”

Crowley had nodded along, leaning into Aziraphale's warm touch even as his eyebrows drew closer and closer together until the end where he hissed fiercely. “Voice box, I remember. He said he took it.” He'd actually almost forgotten the one-off comment from almost a year ago since the culprit had already been dealt with.

“That was the first time, and it was- Well, I deserved it for-” He cut himself off before Crowley could. He hadn't deserved it. He _hadn't_. Aziraphale nestled in closer, sinking into Crowley’s loving hold. “They decided I deserved it for the most ridiculous reason,” he corrected. “Gabriel was instituting a new, stupid organisational system...”

“I don't understand the point.”

As soon as the words were out, he knew they'd been a mistake. Gabriel had rounded on him, his flames lavender at the tips and his multitude of eyes all glowing. “Are you _questioning_ my orders, Aziraphale?” 

There were a lot of damaging things Aziraphale had withstood whilst living with the Angels, but their flames made him wary. They knew it and they used it, something which was as infuriating as it was quietly distressing. But he owed them his existence in this world, so he was willing to put up with their harshness. 

It was, they'd told him, normal for Halloween Town. 

A tiny voice reminded him of the being he'd met in the Infernal Woods, the serpentine Pumpkin King with his grins and his sweetness. That felt more normal than this, but he shook his head. “No, I... I apologise, Gabriel. I'll get to work straight away. Michael's instruments, organised by... by use and then by sharpness.”

Though he still didn't understand the point. 

And he wasn't expecting his head to come off until it did. Gabriel tucked it under his arm and turned on his heel, Aziraphale’s body standing in stunned stillness. The patchwork being opened his mouth to question this unusual course of action, but he said nothing. 

He said nothing when his head was placed in a safe, the door shut and leaving him in darkness. Eventually, he could feel his body being yanked along. He could feel himself being pushed against a wall, could feel the stool he was forced to sit on, the ties around his wrists. Nothing unusual, though he didn't like being unable to see or hear what or who was coming next. So he closed off any ability to feel the things happening with his body, something he had not and would not tell the Angels he could do. 

Hours passed, a day or two, perhaps. Aziraphale wasn't certain. It was difficult to keep track properly, but he kept his mind busy. He worked through stories he'd only half-finished reading, writing the ends to his satisfaction. He spun new tales and eventually the safe opened. He blinked at the bright light and would've recoiled had he any ability to do so. _Sandalphon_. 

“We thought you might react like that,” Sandalphon sniffed. “But you should know better than to ask questions by now.”

He did, actually. He usually kept them to himself. It was likely Crowley’s influence, so he'd have to have a stern talk with the serpent. No more discussing the Angels negatively. It had clearly altered his self-preservation instincts. 

When Sandalphon grabbed him, holding his head upside down as he wheeled along the floors, Aziraphale let awareness of his body trickle in. He felt sticky in spots, charred in others. Attempts to move fingers moved nothing. Another new hand would be needed, then. A new leg, possibly, as he could only sense one. They'd been quite thorough. Ah, well. He had enough fabric to fix himself up. Thanks to Crowley’s generosity, he even had muslin in the proper colour so his coat wouldn't have to suffer more patches. 

It was a bright spot, nearly making him smile, but the state of his body caused a sigh instead. They'd taken flame to him. His coat _would_ need some patches, the brutes. 

Sandalphon dropped Aziraphale’s head in his lap, the hand that still had fingers lifting it to his neck and holding it in place. 

“Aziraphale,” Michael said quietly, bored, “do you know what you've done?” 

“I, ah, I believe I asked Gabriel a question on procedure.” His voice didn't come out exactly right, his voice box unable to properly connect to his mouth whilst unattached. He didn't quite know how the magic of his body worked, but it wasn't necessary. He knew that it _did_ , and that was enough. The distortion unnerved him a bit, nevertheless, the way it was coupled with the two bored gazes on him.

“Clever of you.” It didn't sound like praise, so Aziraphale didn't thank them. He did, however, take the needle and spool of thread he was handed. He preferred using the needle behind his ear, but didn't want to reveal he had it. “Stitch yourself back up, and be quick about it.”

He didn't have fingers on one hand, but he used his palm to hold his head steady and worked the needle through his throat. The back was likely a mess, but he'd fix it up in due time. When they let him be again, at any rate. Once attached, he could feel everything inside coming together again. So he cleared his throat and knotted off the thread before tearing it with his teeth. He rewound the spool and tucked the needle through, all fidgety things that helped him stave off looking back up. 

He winced when the spool was taken from his hand, slowly lifting his gaze to find someone had joined them. 

“This him then?” 

Aziraphale almost couldn't see him, his features blending in with the surroundings almost seamlessly. A lizard of some sort. 

“Yes,” Michael replied. “This is Aziraphale. He needs a lesson in being... seen and not heard.”

Aziraphale swallowed. The Angels had always told him of the ruthlessness of Halloween Town. They'd always warned him that to leave these walls was to leave their protection. He'd never expected someone to be invited in. The being stepped closer and Aziraphale leaned back on his stool. 

“You gonna run? I like when they run.”

There wasn't anywhere to run to. Not out in the open like this. He had no idea what time it even was, the curtains pulled tight over windows as he'd been carried through the halls. “I... I wasn't going to, no.”

“Michael, you said this was gonna be fun.”

Their many, many eyes rolled and Aziraphale silently turned off his pain receptors. “You can do whatever you want to make it fun. But do it quickly. We don't need _Demons_ in our manor, Ligur.”

“Tch.”

The only things he knew about Halloween Town's Demons were the few things Crowley had said about them. He seemed to find them as distasteful as he did the Angels, but for entirely different reasons. The Demons wanted Halloween to dissolve into violent chaos, the sort of nonconsensual warped artistry the Angels had told Aziraphale was commonplace yet the _Pumpkin King_ himself sounded incredibly disapproving of. They lived, he said, on the Southern outskirts of town. Entirely opposite of the Angels, with Halloween Town living in the middle of them. 

Like two opposing forces, Aziraphale had suggested, a little tipsier than he'd meant to get, but Crowley's wave of his own glass had made him feel quite clever. 

At the moment, he only felt dread. Not a fun sort, but something deep-seated and dangerous. Fear was something he'd gotten very used to in his existence here, and with Sandalphon grinning at him as if he were an offering and Michael looking for all the world as if they had better things to do, and this stranger possibly snarling at him - oh, it was so difficult to tell when he blended in so well... In any case, with all that, fear welled up and so did an ache deep in his ticking heart. He didn't _want_ this. Whatever it was, he knew he didn't want it. 

“Michael, I-” 

There was a burst of flame, Aziraphale leaping from the stool as it caught fire beneath him, and Sandalphon chuckled. When Michael turned to walk out, a flutter of wings and a, “Throw him in his tower when you're through,” tossed back, the patchwork being knew he wasn't going to be able to escape this. 

Before he could hang his head in defeat and limply allow whatever his punishment was to be, he found himself slammed unnecessarily against the wall. An outcry that was more surprise than pain cut off abruptly as the fresh seam around his neck was torn. Aziraphale grasped and pushed at him, head quite literally hanging on by a thread, but Ligur only chuckled again. 

Low and sick and looming. “Strugglin's almost as good as running.”

Through cotton and feathers, the lizard being dug and groped until he was able to latch onto a bundle of gears attached to a cone. The entire little contraption was not unlike a phonograph and, when the being ripped it from Aziraphale’s gaping throat, he took his voice. 

And it _hurt_. 

Wires snapped, twanging and prickling at the inside of Aziraphale’s fabric skin. Tears sprang to his eyes, too shocked to stop their appearance as an instinctive need to shout only made the wires vibrate and release something not at all like a word and hardly even akin to a proper sound. It was muffled and muted and strained and, though Aziraphale desperately reached out, the box crunched in a strong grip. 

“Aziraphale,” Sandalphon began, eyes burning in delight, “why don't you go ahead and organise Michael's tools before you go upstairs?” 

He stumbled away from the wall when Ligur released him, gears and wood tumbling from his fist to the hard floors of Michael's labspace. Aziraphale’s head tipped back, back, _back_ and he barely managed to keep it from entirely wrenching free again. But he couldn't ask why. He couldn't plead to know why he was being subjected to humiliation on top of physical damage. 

“M'not hangin' 'round for that,” Ligur huffed. “Sounds dull. Set 'im on fire first, at least.”

Flames crackled, and Aziraphale couldn't even whimper. 

“It took me nearly a month to gather enough materials to replace it. I was... Well, I was very relieved my voice stayed the same. I wouldn't have wanted to explain it to you.”

All through Aziraphale's story, Crowley had been careful to keep himself in check, keep his breathing even, to not snarl and snap like he wanted to do. Though Aziraphale had still ended up tugged fully into his lap, fluffy head tucked under his chin, with hands set to rub soothing circles on his back. “Oh, angel, I wish I could've protected you.” 

“I didn't want you to. I didn't even really know it was an option.” Aziraphale closed his eyes, safe and sound in their home together. He understood more about the truth of Halloween Town and its residents now more than he had a year before. He knew who the outliers were and they were kind enough to live at opposite sides of town. “I'm alright now, though, aren't I? I have you. Even if Michael does bring Ligur back, it won't change a thing.”

“Not a damn thing. You belong here, with me, and in Halloween Town.” His protection might not have been wanted back then, but he knew it was wanted now. He pressed a kiss to the top of Aziraphale's head “That nasty little lizard will never lay another hand on you, I swear it.” And if he tried, Crowley would gladly take 'an eye for an eye' to its most literal conclusion. Or a voice box for a voice box, as it were.

“And you say you're not precious.” Aziraphale tipped his head back, pressing a string of kisses along Crowley’s jawline. “I love you, my wily serpent.”

Crowley ducked his head to capture his wandering mouth in a kiss. He supposed he could be precious _and_ wily, if it was for Aziraphale. “And I love you, my bastard angel.”

“I know, dearest. I never doubt that. As much as I never wanted them to lay a feature on me, I've never disliked when you do.” If Crowley ever asked him to remove his head for a while, he'd do so gladly and likely wouldn't have to turn off sensations. The trust was there when it wasn't for them. He ducked his head again, tucking beneath Crowley’s chin. “I'm very glad you decided to nap in a tree that first day I escaped them.”

“Even though I deceived you and wouldn't tell you who I was?” Crowley asked with a grin, carding long fingers through soft curls. 

“I forgave you that years ago, you silly thing. Luckily for you.” Aziraphale closed his eyes, absorbing the touch to his hair, the surprisingly strong arm around him, the slender thighs beneath him, the long line of his torso. A small shift gave him Crowley’s heartbeat, strong in his ear.

Crowley chuckled into his hair and let Aziraphale squirm until he was comfortable. “Bah, I have it on good authority you already thought I was, what was it? _Clever and imaginative_? No luck about it, was already wooing you with my charms before you even knew me.” 

“You terrified Gabriel. There was nothing so charming as that. I like to think he was scared this year as well.” Though it was his first Halloween not hearing about it. “You, clever and imaginative though you are, still don't frighten me. You... excite me.”

“Oh, angel, you say it like sweeping you off your feet wasn't my diabolical plan from the beginning. And, if Anathema is to be believed, Gabriel was one of louder screamers this year.” He wondered if the witch could enchant a mirror to show him the scene whenever he liked; it might make a good Christmas present.

Aziraphale giggled. No one ever seemed to discuss the Angels around him, and he was hardly upset about that. He would've loved to know about Gabriel, though. He believed that, but he wasn't quite sure if he did Crowley’s “diabolical plan.” The idea that he may have been interested in him since the beginning was... Well, it was difficult to wrap his head around. 

He tipped his head back, lips brushing the underside of his chin as they did when Crowley was in his serpentine form. “I'm chuffed I could help, my dear. It was as exciting to be in the middle as it was to be on the sidelines. I'm sure he was probably worried you were going to go bother him about what he said to me when he thought you weren't around.”

Crowley growled at the reminder. “He _should_ be worried. Daring to call our relationship a _farce_. I'll pluck each of that birdbrain's feathers one by one.” See how he liked having bits and pieces removed. “Next time he'll think twice about approaching you just because you look alone.” 

“He certainly will. Michael didn't seem bothered by your presence at all, though, did they?” Aziraphale plucked at the snake-like tie looped around Crowley’s neck. He adored the silly little reminder of what lay beneath this human form. “I wish none of them would bother approaching either of us.”

He was right. Michael hadn't even acknowledged him. It was bold, too bold, in his opinion. “Perhaps they need a reminder,” Crowley hissed, tightening his grip on Aziraphale protectively, “of who, exactly, they are dealing with.”

“Just don't do anything too reckless, dearest. I don't want you hurt.”

“Don't worry, love.” The flickering shadows caused by the nearby fire lengthened and grew darker, a howling wind rose outside rattling the windows and shutters, and faces twisted in silent screams danced in the crackling fireplace. “I'm made of sterner stuff than you think.” 

“Oh, Crowley.” He knew his beloved hadn't come by the title of Pumpkin King for no reason, but the terrifying hints of those powers were only beautiful to Aziraphale. Such was his certainty that the depths of cruelty wouldn't be inflicted upon him unless he asked. It was the single most important difference between the Angels and Crowley. “No one could ever be as strong as I think you are.”

Crowley slipped a finger beneath Aziraphale’s chin, tilting his head up to more easily kiss him as the wind died and the fire and shadow returned to their normal states. “Then believe me when I say there is nothing the Angels can do to me.”

“I do.” Crowley really couldn't be discounted in any sort of fight, not in their world. It wasn't something Aziraphale thought about often, but it wasn't something he disliked. Very far from it, in fact. “Do you think you could, ah... bring all that back? For a bit.”

“Er, I- Yeah. 'Course I can.” The wind rose again, dark shadows crawled across the floor and walls and ceiling, and the fire in the mantel flared as floorboards creaked across the house. It could be addictive, this feeling of power and control he had over their world. Something Crowley was wary of using too often, the stories of past Pumpkin Kings being consumed with it stood as a grim warning. “Aziraphale?”

The shadows were nearly tangible, Aziraphale tempted to reach out and touch them, but he sat in the middle of the flurry his lover had created and felt a small thrill working along his flimsy spine. “I'm sorry. I hope this isn't something you find, ah, distasteful. I only- It's just that it isn't _frightening_ to me, Crowley. All this power you have. It should be, I think, but you haven't managed to make me afraid of you since you first slithered out of the bushes. I've been a little in love with you since you first spoke to me, after all.”

Crowley felt his heart soar even as the buzzing of his power settled over his skin. “Oh, angel, and you captured my heart that day too. No one ever thought to ask if I was lonely.” He trailed kisses from lips to cheek. “You’re not scared at all? Even I was, the first time.”

“Oh, darling. It's _you_. You're not these powers of yours. You just happen to have them. And I know you would never hurt me with them.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Hurting you is the last thing I want to do.” Fog was seeping in between cracks in the windows and from under doors, coiling at floor level and around the furniture. “You are the precious one to me, Aziraphale, my angel.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s lips to his own, his own moan a surprise. He knew. Of course he knew. Crowley had shown just that in so many ways over the months they'd lived together and in others before, when all they'd had were snatches of time. When Aziraphale had been under the thumbs of powerful beings who used that against him. 

He'd rather know what it was to have power used for him. If Crowley was willing. If the depths of his own abilities made him nervous, he'd never force it. But asking couldn't hurt. “You don’t, ah, have to use any of your... extra powers when you- when we're intimate because I very much enjoy everything we do without it. But if you, perhaps, wanted to try... I trust you, Crowley. Without question.”

The kiss, and particularly the moan, had been unexpected but not unwelcome. Crowley chased the sound of it and the words that followed with lips and tongue and teeth. The zing of power held just below the surface, a stormcloud suspended in the moment before it unleashed its fury. “A-angel you, mmm, you want to make love while- while I’m… When I’m like this?”

His eyes were such a molten gold, they practically glowed. Aziraphale shivered against him. “Yes. I'd very much like to be ravished, if you're willing.”

Crowley groaned and manhandled Aziraphale to straddle his lap instead of sit. He tugged Aziraphale into another deep kiss and then allowed himself to let go of the tightly held reins. Thunder and lightning flashed and dark shadowy tendrils curled their way around Aziraphale’s ankles, the tips just dipping inside his trouser legs. “Tell me if, ah, if it’s too much.”

“I-” Surprised by the sensation, Aziraphale looked back to see that the shadows were indeed tangible enough to touch. “Gosh. That's very-” Embarrassingly exciting, Aziraphale unable to help but give an eager wiggle. “Enticing,” he admitted, shivered when another clap of lightning illuminated the room, thunder shaking it. “I attached something new this morning. I thought you might like it.”

“Ffffuuuck,” Crowley hissed and palmed the backs of Aziraphale’s ample thighs. “Wondered what was taking you so long getting ready this morning.”

“Well, you know certain things must be attached just so.” Aziraphale began plucking away at Crowley's buttons, mouth falling to his throat. “And I can promise you it's working.”

The scrape of teeth and drag of tongue felt different on skin than on scales. Crowley could never decide which he liked better, usually which ever was happening in the moment. Especially when Aziraphale pressed an open mouthed kiss to his pulse and _sucked_. “Sssshit! If I’d have, ah, known a little- little power display was all it, mm, took to wind you up...” He slid his hands from thighs to arse as multiple shadows wound their way around Aziraphale, their dextrous tips plucking at his many buttons. “Think I mmmight have you at, ah, bit of a disadvantage, love.”

“A bit.” Though it wasn't the power so much as who was wielding it, the display still not frightening. It wasn't much different from when Aziraphale let both sets of hands loose, though the shapeless voids could get under his clothes far easier than his hands could get under Crowley’s. They were fumbling, fingers feeling clumsy as he was steadily bared. “Crowley,” he whined, eyes closing as those dark tendrils put delicious pressure on his seams. 

“Yessss. Look at you. So gorgeous like this,” Crowley whispered, leaning away to take in the sight of Aziraphale lost in sensation. The cocks trapped, already hard and aching, in his trousers were ignored in favour of snaking his hands under Aziraphale’s untucked shirt. Squeezing and groping the stitching at his sides while buttons were finished being dealt with.

“Are they- Is it-” Aziraphale felt tugs at his bow tie until it, too, was undone. Crowley’s hands felt different from the shadowy tendrils. Tangible though they were, it was almost like being touched by firm water. Not ice as they weren't chilly, but something fluid and easily able to fall apart. His hands were different, solid and familiar. “Oh- You- you're controlling these? Completely?” 

Crowley laughed and leaned forward to kiss the newly bared strip of throat. “Completely. They do exactly what I want them to.” And what he wanted was Aziraphale’s shirt and waistcoat _off_. So off they came, neatly folded across the back of the sofa. “There’s my angel,” he hissed, hands traveling reverently across warm fabric skin.

Aziraphale writhed above him, delving a hand into auburn hair. “Yours,” he breathlessly agreed, other hand tugging at his jacket. “Off with this, please. I want - _oh_ \- to t-touch you, too.”

It was a delight to have Aziraphale, usually so prim and composed, falling apart in his arms. “You can have anything you want.” He shrugged out of the jacket, letting it pool on the floor, shirt already partially unbuttoned. “Look at this; usually, I’m the one naked first.” The shadows were already trying to push Aziraphale’s trousers past his hips, tendrils winding around his arms and chest, while Crowley pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere in the parlour without looking. “Come ‘ere, love.”

Even if he hadn't wanted to move, he still would've been guided forward by the rippling darkness. Close enough for familiar skin to be under his palms, grounding him even as the tendrils made him quake. They squeezed his thighs, caressed his seams intimately, the way Crowley did. It was similar to having his hands or his coils winding all around, but the independent movement was new. He gripped Crowley’s shoulders tightly, pleasured noises stealing away his words. If this was what Crowley wanted, to touch him everywhere, he was succeeding and Aziraphale’s first release came by shuddering surprise. “ _Oh-_!” 

Crowley watched enraptured as pleasure alighted across his lover's face, body trembling in his arms. He guided Aziraphale into a kiss to soften the landing, gentling the shadows to soft caresses so as to not overwhelm. “Pleasure's a good look on you.” 

“Gosh,” he managed after a moment, tongue feeling thick and dumb in his mouth. With the gentling of the touch, he was able to cuddle in a little closer and let his fingers explore the familiar dips and planes of Crowley's chest. “Can you- I realise they're, mm, not a physical part of you. But can you feel the way they're touching me?” 

“Nah. S'like puppets on strings. Bit more complicated, maybe, but good enough analogy.” He didn't think he'd be able to string two words together if he could actually feel how they touched Aziraphale.

Aziraphale nodded, thumbs brushing over Crowley’s nipples. “Then I don't, ah, want them... in, if that's alright. I made this new bit very specifically with you in mind.” His hands slipped down further, undoing the button of his trousers, and his lips made their way up to Crowley's ear in light kisses. “It's textured, you see.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Crowley groaned. “You magnificent bastard.” He tugged at Aziraphale's trouser waistband. “Off. Take them off.” The shadows did their job, pulling at Aziraphale's trouser legs until Crowley lifted him by the waist so they could slide off. 

Hands falling to his shoulders again, Aziraphale let out a breathless giggle. It was very true that he wasn't typically undressed first. Being able to switch sensations on and off lended itself well to keeping one's head during intimacy, and Crowley... Well, Crowley tended to lose himself in sensation very quickly. This was different, new. “And, ah, I know you normally use one at a time, but I wanted and I thought you might like... Well, it's wide enough for both.”

“Hnnnng. Gonna bloody kill me.” The pants went next, Crowley not even paying attention to where they were tossed in favour of examining Aziraphale’s newest “attachment.” A sloping mound covered in the same spun silk as his hair. Crowley groaned and pressed his face to Aziraphale's chest. “Beautiful angel.” 

He'd said so about all of them, but the praise still made Aziraphale buzz with pride. And quite a bit more, unable to hold back an eager wiggle or a gasp when one of those tendrils twined around his thigh and squeezed. “Only for you, dearest.”

Crowley ran his hands from sides to belly, caressing down Aziraphale’s round middle to dig his thumbs into the interior crease where legs met torso. “Can I?” he asked, running a thumb across an outer lip, careful to keep the shadows from getting too close. Aziraphale said he didn't want them inside, so outside they would stay. 

Aziraphale nodded, fingers flexing on his shoulders. Other tendrils were sliding around his waist, the other thigh to pull his legs further apart. He whimpered, lashes fluttering in his struggle to keep his eyes open and on Crowley’s shining ones. “Yes.”

He parted one lip to trace gently on the inside, gathering the moisture that had already gathered there. “This wet for me already?” The first time Aziraphale attached this particular type of configuration, the self-lubrication had been a surprise to the both of them, but apparently “works properly” really had meant works properly.

“Well, I've already...” And he was likely going to again, the shadows steadily increasing their pressure. These puppets, as Crowley had called them, knew just the right pressure to put on his seams. That threat of being pulled apart coupled with the knowledge that Crowley wouldn't let him tear - it had always been enough for him. He whimpered as Crowley’s fingers explored the inner lips, pressure building in his gut. “Oh- oh, please-” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” He slipped one digit inside, wet arousal easing the way. “Oh, angel.” Warm and slick and definitely wider than normal. Inner walls ribbed with soft nubs. “You're going to feel so good on my cocks.”

Aziraphale tried to grind down, but was held fast. It was so very sensitive, riddled with new stitching and every section of those nubs seemed to have come with their own pleasure circuits because his mind was overloading on the gentle strokes along the walls. “Yes- Yes, I want-” He clenched, trying for more, but he wasn't nearly full enough for it to work. “Crowley- Crowley, Crowley, Cr-” The chants of his name spilled into an outcry, head falling back as he came anew, spilling over Crowley’s hand. 

Crowley buried his satisfied grin in Aziraphale’s heaving chest, stilling the hand that was now wet and dripping down to the knuckles. His cocks twitched eagerly where they were still restrained in his trousers. “Love it when you say my name like that.” 

Fingers gently stroking Crowley's hair, Aziraphale mumbled something incoherent in response. It took another few seconds to respond, all too-aware of where those tendrils continued their gentle caresses. “You're making it very... oh, very difficult to avoid. I tried turning some sensation off, but I still feel everything these do.” Which meant the serpent could hurt him. He could do _anything_ and Aziraphale would be helpless, but he didn't feel that way even trapped as he was. “You're doing wonderfully, darling. My brilliant mate,” he praised. He didn't fully understand, not having those instincts, but he knew Crowley liked being called that. 

And he certainly seemed to right then. Wind screamed down their chimney, snuffing the fire to embers and entirely encasing the patchwork being in shadows which ghosted over his fabric skin. His heart ticked faster, but it wasn't from anything like fear. It was so dark, his vision stolen by the pitch black of a terrifying nightfall. Body pulsing and fluttering, Aziraphale met a predatory golden gaze and surrendered to the sheer _want_. “ _Yes_.”

Crowley lunged with a snarl. The snake he truly was had been coiled inside, waiting patiently for its time to strike and delighted by his mate's claiming. Swallowing up Aziraphale’s surprised gasp with a kiss as they tumbled to the cushions. He could feel the shadows tugging his trousers down, which was for the best as his hands were busy spreading Aziraphale wider to press two fingers inside.

Body pliant and moldable, the shadows were able to bend Aziraphale’s legs at the knee and keep them spread as much as Crowley’s hands. He spilled whines and desperate noises into the kiss, tugging at Crowley's hair and grasping wherever the other hand could reach. Back and shoulders and anywhere else to try to get him closer, closer, _closer_. “Crowley,” he moaned, hips bucking. “More, please, _please_.”

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed as his cocks were finally set free, arching up dripping and aching. He withdrew his fingers, wet as they were, comforting Aziraphale’s whimpers over the loss with gentle kisses and pets to his thigh. “Sshh, love. S'alright. I know, I know.” Grasping both shafts together in one hand with a groan, Crowley dragged the tips against Aziraphale’s wet entrance. “R-ready for me, angel?”

Aziraphale reached up, clinging to Crowley’s shoulders. The shadows binding him had stilled, keeping him held in an eerie embrace, and those golden eyes glowed above him. They were the only things he could see, the only things he needed. “Yes.”

Crowley groaned and pushed forward into that welcoming wet heat. Aziraphale writhing and gasping beneath him, each stutter of his hips drawing him deeper still. The interior nubs catching on the ridges of his cocks sent shocks of pleasure zinging up his spine. “Fffffuck, sssshit. An-angel. So warm. Ssssso- so good.”

Aziraphale’s head fell back as he was slowly, steadily filled. It was so much more than normal, both of them used to Crowley using one at a time, and even having been designed to accommodate both, he could still feel the stretch. He could feel every inch of the slide. “Yes, Crowley, please- My Crowley.” When he was fully seated, unable to sink further, Aziraphale’s legs banded about his slender waist, thighs squeezing to keep him deep. 

He didn’t need light to see Aziraphale’s head thrown back in ecstasy, moans and sighs falling from his lips as Crowley pulled back and thrust back in. Textured walls new and delightful and rubbing and catching in just the right ways to drive him crazy. “Yours. Yours, only yours,” Crowley gasped and slid his dry hand into Aziraphale’s hair, the other grasping his hip hard enough to bruise someone with regular skin. The shadows soon wrapped around them both in a tight embrace as Crowley found his rhythm.

Aziraphale clutched at him, holding on for dear life as every thrust rocketed up his spine to spark his heart and mind into overdrive. Crowley took him over completely, the only beacon in the dark. “Love you,” he gasped, drawing closer and closer to peak yet again. “I _love_ you.”

Crowley’s hips stuttered. Even now, locked in an intimate act of love, after hearing those three words everyday for months, repeating them and uttering them himself at every opportunity, they still made his heart skip and flutter. “My, mmm, my love. B-beloved angel, let-let go. Let, ah, go for me.”

It didn't take much longer, enveloped so tightly and filled so completely. Inescapable and perfect, Aziraphale was helpless but to succumb to sensation and tumble from the edge with a wail of Crowley's name and a tightening of limbs as he shook to proverbial pieces. 

He was already so close, barely hanging on by a thread to ensure Aziraphale was given as much pleasure and attention as he could possibly want. It only took two more thrusts, walls wet and spasming around his dual cocks, to follow Aziraphale over. Both emptying almost simultaneously and causing Crowley’s vision to go white, spine taut as he shouted and the house shook around them. He was only dimly aware of his arms giving out after, Crowley collapsing onto Aziraphale’s soft body.

A soft “oof” escaped, the best Aziraphale could manage whilst trying to catch his breath. But he was very happy to envelop Crowley in his arms, a hand delving into his hair. He rolled his hips experimentally, enjoying the way they both shivered, and nestled his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck on a wordless, contented sound. 

“Ngk,” Crowley mumbled, fingers carding through Aziraphale’s hair. It had to be a veritable mess at this point but the motion of it was familiar and calming.

“Still alive, darling?” Aziraphale murmured, softly kissed his neck.

“Mmmm-no. M'dead,” Crowley slurred. “No longer among th’ living.” 

“Mm. I don't think it would still be storming were that true.” Though he couldn't see the lightning through the darkness around them, he could still feel the thunder rattling the house. Lips curving, Aziraphale gently stroked his back, drew little patterns at a whim. 

Crowley shivered at the soft touch. “Dunno, maybe death via orgasm causes storms. S'not like there’s a manual.”

“Oh, but I'd rather you still be here, I think. Very much alive and very much with me.” Aziraphale kissed a lazy path up his throat, amused. “Silly serpent.”

A grin slowly spread across his face. “Could be persuaded to stick around. Maybe.”

Barely holding back his own smile, Aziraphale let his lips continue along Crowley’s jawline. “Oh?” 

Crowley bit his lip, nervous energy causing a hand to flex at Aziraphale’s hip. “Yeah. Just got to, ah, say yes. To a question.”

“That sounds terribly suspect.” Aziraphale let his head fall back to the couch cushions, still only able to see Crowley’s eyes. They were stunning gold, almost hypnotising. “What question, darling?”

“Didn’t, er, plan to ask like- like this.” Though it had been something bouncing around his head for the last few months. Tracy and Anathema both needling him to “make things official.” Bothersome mother hens, the pair of them. “But, ah, would you like to, I mean, will you marry me?”

“ _Oh_. Oh, you-” Aziraphale started to giggle, which caused far too much sensation where they were joined, but he couldn't make himself stop. “You _ridiculous_ \- I certainly hope this wasn't the plan. Of course it's a yes. I love you, Crowley. You do know I can't see a thing but your eyes, though, don't you?” 

Crowley made a strangled sort of sound at the sudden movement. Cocks still very sensitive. “Azzziraphale… N-no I- Fuck.” Of course this wasn’t the plan. He hadn’t had one yet, just the want of it, just the longing to make Aziraphale _his_ in every way he was allowed. Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s hair and willed the shadows back to normal, tucking his power back inside where it belonged.

Aziraphale shook his head, smile nothing but fond as he blinked at the adjustment. “Oh, don't be embarrassed, you sweet, silly serpent. It's terribly like you.” He cupped Crowley’s red cheeks and kissed him soundly. “Ask me again, so I can agree without laughing.”

“But… But that was terrible timing.”

“That doesn't change my answer, Crowley. I love you.” He stroked his cheeks gently, fingers sliding up to delve into his already mussed hair. “If you meant it, I'd like to say yes properly.”

“'Course I meant it,” Crowley grumbled and rubbed their noses together. “You’re my best friend, my partner, my love. And I’d, ngk, I’d like you to be my husband too.”

“Oh...” Aziraphale practically melted beneath him, smile softening. “That was much better.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yes. And, yes, I'll be your husband. I'd very much love it if you were mine.”

Crowley sniffed and pressed their foreheads together. “Kinda how that works, angel.”

“Oh, no, you're not going to try making _me_ sound like the silly one, you ridiculous snake.” Aziraphale beamed at him regardless, eyes shining fondly. “Now move, will you? I think if I wiggled now, it'd kill us both.”

“Ngk. R-right.” They _were_ still attached. Crowley finally pulled out with a hiss. “M-maybe we should, ah, save this one for special occasions?”

“Yes. We've set an excellent precedent for it already.” He was going to have to swap the patches on his inner thighs. Again. “You did like it, didn't you?” 

“Fuuuck, angel, you have to ask? Think that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, good. It felt... It was incredible to have you- to have all of you like that. And not only _those_. All of it.”

Crowley grinned wide and predatory. “Yes, I noticed you really liked the tentacles.”

Aziraphale’s smile was shy, but his delight was clear. “It was like being wrapped up in your snake form, but if there were several of you.”

Now _that_ was an idea. “Would you like to have several of me?”

 _Gosh_. “Is... Is that something you can do?” 

Crowley had no idea if that was something he could do, but before today he had also never turned shadows into tangible tentacles so he was willing to give it a shot. “That sounds like interest, angel.” Crowley wiggled his eyebrows and cupped Aziraphale’s cheek. “I’m sure I could figure something out.”

“Only temporarily. I don't think I could handle several of you for long.” Aziraphale tipped into the touch, eyes closing and lips curving. “Thank you for, ah, indulging me. Using your powers that way.”

“Only for you, love. Never would’ve thought of it on my own. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, mind, was nice to have you fall apart without losing my own head first.” And he would like to watch Aziraphale lose himself in pleasure again and again.

“You do have such wonderful reactions to being touched.” To being loved. Aziraphale turned his head to kiss his palm. “And you're always very good to me. I love being with you. I even enjoyed your little snarl, you possessive darling.”

Crowley ducked his head to bury his face against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Really don't mind? The- the possessive thing?” He was sure Aziraphale would say if he did, but in light of the day's recounting, Crowley never wanted him to think he saw him as an object to be owned. 

“From you? No, dearest. I know it's rather instinctive, and I don't mind that part of you.” Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “The only place you want to keep me is in your heart, and it's a very nice place to be.”

“Also wanna keep you on this sofa. S'comfortable.”

“Yes, but if I told you I wanted to get up, we would. That's the point, dearest. That's why I'm not afraid of you, and why I like how possessive you are.” Aziraphale nuzzled into his hair. “You'll never go too far. If I didn't believe it before, I certainly do now.”

“'Course I won't,” Crowley said, pressing kisses to every patch of throat he could reach without actually moving. “No fun otherwise.” 

Aziraphale closed his eyes, head tilting to grant him all the access he could want. “You make me so, unbelievably happy, Crowley. Every day, I love you more. My mate.”

Crowley growled against his neck. “Azsssiraphale. You know what that does to me.” Nothing got the attention of the snake half of his brain like Aziraphale calling him his mate.

He giggled. “What does it do to you? My lovely, fierce mate.” 

“Makes me want to fuck you senseless is what it does.” He surged up to take an earlobe between his teeth and _tug_. “Sssso unless you want to go _again_ …” 

Aziraphale shifted his hips, letting a low moan spill out. _Again_ was not far from his plans at all. “Maybe in bed this time. It should give you more room to stretch me out to your liking.” His lashes fluttered, seeing and feeling hints of smooth scales patching Crowley’s skin. “It's still a special occasion, Crowley. My stunning mate.”

Moaning in return, Crowley grasped him by the backs of his thighs and sat up. “It is, isn't it, my fiancé?” His legs might still feel like wet moss, but rippling coils replaced them easily enough. “Bed sounds like a perfect idea.”

“Fiancé, yes. I like how that sounds.” Beaming, Aziraphale reached out to run his fingers over the end of the long tail when it lifted to brush against his cheek. He'd be wrapped in these coils soon enough, he knew. As tightly as he wanted to be and no more. He kissed a patch of smooth scales and watched Crowley's grin spread. Heart ticking along in anticipation, he surrendered again. 

The only light in their bedroom was cast by flickering flames of the nearby fireplace. Long since burned down to embers now, though Crowley had no intention of stoking it back to roaring. Aziraphale’s body provided more than enough warmth.

Getting to watch Aziraphale sleep was a rare thing. He didn't seem to need nearly as much of it as other beings and even after living together for just over a year now, Crowley could count the amount of times he'd caught him in the act on one hand. 

So it was delightful getting to press kisses to the back of Aziraphale’s sleeping shoulders, run featherlight touches up and down his arm, press an ear to his back and listen to his steadily ticking heart. A heart Crowley would do anything and everything in his power to keep whole and safe.

It was with great reluctance that he pulled away, pressing a final kiss to Aziraphale’s soft cheek. “Be right back, love.”

The furrow of brow and pout Aziraphale gave in sleep as he got out of bed was almost enough to make Crowley slide right back between the sheets and never leave. “You menace,” he grouched quietly as he made his way to the closet to search for something appropriately “intimidating.” “You know I'm not going very far.” It was still sweet though.

Crowley dressed as quietly as he could, careful not to wake his sleeping partner. Normally he would settle in with Aziraphale and be the last one out of bed, more than content to sleep the night and part of the day away, but tonight he had some minor business to take care of to ensure their continued peace.

The last piece of his outfit, and one Crowley preferred to ignore, was kept in a locked box in his office. He stopped by the bed one last time to pull the sheets up to Aziraphale's chin, smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows with his thumb, and leave a note on the side table saying he would be out for a time.

The bedroom door closed with a quiet click and Crowley marched down the hall to the office. Awards and ribbons and trophies from Halloweens past adorned every available wall space and a slate stone desk dominated the center. The small wood chest sitting in the center of the desk was his goal. 

It opened with a touch, hinges creaking to reveal an inside lined with tattered and moulded red velvet. Nestled in the center was a mass of black and dead thorned branches twisted in the shape of a jagged circle.

Crowley scowled down at the ugly thing, his “crown,” as he lifted it from its resting place. He refused to wear it except when Shadwell insisted and only when it seemed he couldn't wiggle his way out of it. It didn't even have any special powers or magic like Sandy Claws's hat. It was just an ugly crown that had been passed down from Pumpkin King to Pumpkin King for longer than anyone could remember.

But it _was_ official.

He placed it on his head with a sigh and then winced when a stray thorn scratched the back of his head. “Stupid, ugly…” Crowley really hated this crown.

Crowley left the house with a bad mood already building. He didn't want to have to throw his weight around, he wasn't some tyrant. He was the king, yes, but he expected Halloween Town's citizens to follow their laws without him having to intervene. Thus far that had not been a problem. Mayor Shadwell and Madame Tracy handled the day-to-day complaints, and all Crowley had to do was frown or give a pointed look to cow the more rowdy beings. The Angels were, unfortunately, the outliers here and Aziraphale's piece of mind was paramount. And he wouldn't put it past the Angels to try something when their guard was down.

A bright waxing crescent moon illuminated the yard and town beyond. Crowley glared at it until a dark cloud moved to cover it, casting everything in deep shadow.

He avoided going through the town; it might have been the dead of night, but there were just as many nocturnal citizens as there were day-walkers. Crowley swept through side alleys and kept close the far edges, his black and red cape billowing out behind him. Coiling fog followed every step.

The Angels' manor loomed ahead and even in the lack of light, it was obvious things had gone into disrepair. Thick dust and cobwebs covered all the windows, a few were even broken. Crowley took a moment to look to the eastern tower and couldn't help but smirk at the window at the very top that swung freely in the slight wind. He would never allow Aziraphale to return there and the reminder of what he was protecting spurred him on.

As satisfying as busting in the front door and making demands could be, this was still someone's home. He hated the Angels for what they'd done to Aziraphale, but they had been a part of Halloween Town for ages and he'd never hear the end of it from Shadwell if he didn't at least try civility first. So he knocked.

It took several minutes before it finally swung open, Uriel frowning, xir gaze lingering on his crown. “Oh. It's you.”

Crowley grinned slow and predatory, showing off every sharp tooth. “Me. I believe you, your cohorts, and I have something to discuss.”

Normally, Crowley wasn't seen as much of a threat. He'd dismantled much of the prior regimes, practices he'd called outdated and vile whilst turning Halloween into something spontaneous and modernly, excitingly - in some opinions - wicked instead. The darkness edging around him, the violent glimmer of sharp fangs, and the determined glint of _something_ in amber eyes weren't quite normal. 

Uriel tapped feathers against the door before opening it wider. “You can wait in the parlour. I'll get Gabriel.”

“Wonderful.” Crowley followed Uriel inside, noting the scuffed floors, spider webs as big as his head, and thick layers of dust in the front hall. The parlour was equally as bad with the added bonus of a fireplace so full of charred kindling that it was spilling out onto the floor.

The second Uriel was out of sight Crowley hissed and glared at the mess around him. They’d had _months_ to get used to the idea of no longer having a pet slave to order around and yet it was blatantly obvious they still expected someone else to clean up after them. Crowley was even more disgusted, if that were possible. He was the bloody King of Halloween and even he cleaned his own fireplace.

They kept him waiting in the grit and grime, minutes ticking along until nearly an hour had passed. Only then did a squeak announce someone's arrival. Sandalphon hummed. “I see you're still here.”

Crowley seethed, a rage simmering just below the surface. It wasn’t just the disrespect of wasting his time in such a blatant manner but also coming face to face with one being he knew had a direct hand in harming the one he loved. The various details Aziraphale had let slip, sometimes off-hand other times on purpose, sprang to mind.

Shadows crept along the walls and floor towards Crowley’s feet and the rotted wood the manor was built from creaked in a sudden violent wind. “I planned on dealing with you lot all at once. But I can settle for one at a time if you prefer.”

There was a panicked flash of light, then a burst of four followed seconds later. Sandalphon kept himself to the back with a neutral-expressioned Uriel. Michael looked as faintly bored as ever and Gabriel- Gabriel went through displeasure, fear, anger, and finally managed an incredibly sincere apologetic smile. “So sorry to keep you waiting. We weren't expecting visitors at this time of night.”

“Of course not. I would have sent a note ahead, but I’m afraid this discussion quite simply cannot wait.”

Not a single expression changed on the three behind Gabriel. It was as if they were the dolls, lifeless shells. Gabriel himself only lifted a brow in a show of polite curiosity. “Oh?” 

Crowley turned on a heel and began to pace. “Tell me, is it not true that the laws state that all who come to our world must be processed and encouraged to integrate?”

Gabriel gritted his teeth and didn't bother to play dumb about the topic at hand. “Clearly, Aziraphale’s integrated.”

“Oh yes, quite spectacularly, well done me. I suppose I deserve a pat on the back and a biscuit for doing the bare minimum. The problem here, chaps, isn’t that Aziraphale has, now, become part of the community but that it took this long and required intervention by yours truly.”

“He never told us he wanted to leave,” Gabriel defended. 

Michael eyed Crowley distastefully. “Besides, anytime he did leave, he returned.”

Crowley was sorely tempted to ask if they thought he was that stupid but knew it would be futile. “And yet, now that he’s gotten to know our town, Aziraphale has not once returned to you despite your continued insistence that he should.”

Sandalphon sneered. “ _You’ve_ had him. How do we know you aren’t keeping him trapped?”

“Yes. I’ve ‘ _had him_ ,’” Crowley snarled, lightning flashing beyond a dirty window. “Were it not for me, you'd still have him locked up in a tower like a naughty pet! Aziraphale can come and go as he pleases with me, which is more freedom than you lot ever gave him!” 

None of them even had the decency to look apologetic. Though Gabriel did glance towards the window when thunder rattled it. “I don't know what lies he's been telling you, but-”

“ _Lies_?!” Lightning and thunder rattled the very foundation of the manor as fog seeped in between the cracks. The shadows on the floor rose from the ground with clawed hands, some twining around Crowley's legs to spill from his back as inky tendrils. “So you deny keeping him locked away? You deny forbidding him from attending Halloween? You _deny removing pieces of his body as punishment_?!” 

Silence hung heavy, seconds passing like hours. “He's an object,” Michael suddenly defended, tone that of scolding a child. “That's all he was designed to be. Nothing more.”

Two clawed shadows shot forward, grabbing Michael by the wings and pinning them to the wall. “ _Then you failed as a designer_! You created a thinking, feeling, being and then refused to accept your own failure and punished him for daring to use the brain _you_ gave him!” 

Several eyes closed as those clawed shadows misplaced feathers and threatened harm to sensitive pupils. Flames that tried to start were snuffed before they could fully form. It was an unceasing sort of threat, their Pumpkin King's fury unwinding his powers. Michael didn't speak again and wouldn't have been able to had they tried. 

“There's nothing wrong with creating a servant and treating them like someone of Halloween Town _should_ be treated,” Uriel tried. 

“Oh,” Crowley said softly, “I see. You think everyone should be tormented by each other regardless of whether they want to be or not.” He shook his head, a seemingly calm point in the center of the ravaging storm. “Well, I'm afraid to say you just don't belong, then.” 

“He never said no.” Not after the first few times, anyway. And then it was as if he didn't feel anything at all anyway. Nothing but a large pin cushion. “Couldn't have minded that much.”

Crowley ignored xem. “You know, I hear the humans tell stories of angels. They seem to think they live up in the clouds. I think that is where you should go. Somewhere very far away where you can't bother me or the one I love anymore.”

There wasn't a chance to ask what he meant, Uriel simply vanishing. Swallowed by darkness, nothing but a single stray feather left behind. Michael, when Gabriel and Sandalphon looked back, was also gone. Gabriel bristled from fear more than out of any annoyance at the loss of two of his housemates. “That's... Michael was in the middle of something important.”

“Yes. Trying to revive Ligur if I'm not mistaken. Pity. I would have enjoyed killing him a second time.” 

“Now there certainly aren't laws about bringing beings back from the dead,” Gabriel protested. Though that was hardly all they were doing. Aziraphale needed replacing. 

Crowley grinned, face split in half with it and mouth filled with way too many teeth. “There certainly isn’t,” he agreed. “It would have just been incredibly bothersome should he attempt to harm my beloved again.” Crowley took a step forward and delighted in the panicked retreat of Gabriel and Sandalphon.

“Now obviously there have been a few... choices made in the past that may seem questionable from certain perspectives, but is this really the best way to handle this?”

A manic, cackling, laugh echoed around the room at Gabriel’s wonderings, Crowley’s grip on himself slipping as power began to overwhelm. “You dare question my judgement? As if your opinions on how I run things have any weight! Unfortunately for you, Gabriel, this sentence is long overdue. I was merciful and gave you and the other Angels every chance to be better. A waste of my goodwill, obviously.”

Gabriel also winked out of existence, writhing shadows swallowing up the space he previously inhabited. Crowley turned serpentine eyes and attention onto the last of them, but Sandalphon didn't wait, turning and vanishing from the room of his own accord with a flurry of feather and a squeaking squeal of wheels. 

Crowley sighed and stared up at the mould-covered ceiling. “As much as I enjoy a good chassse, I do have an angel waiting for me at home.” He never did this, as it felt invasive. Crowley really didn't think it was any of his business where everyone was and what, exactly, they were doing.

Tapping into the awareness of it was less like summoning up a power and more like drowning himself in a strong ocean current. He could feel every life and un-life, a web of interconnected consciousnesses that made up their world, from the deep slumbering nightmares beneath the ground to three irate and furious Angels suspended and separated high above the clouds. It stopped, quite abruptly, at the edge of the Infernal Woods.

Crowley had to put up a monumental effort to not get swept up in the bombardment of information. He knew every single werecreature, what they could turn into, how, and which ones were or were not transformed, heard the ghosts rattling chains in the cemetery, knew the amount and location of every skeleton in every closet. Adam and his friends were all asleep in their hammock beds in their hideout under the swamp.

And Aziraphale- Aziraphale was awake, puttering around their kitchen. Crowley could hear him humming and smell recently sliced apples. He had to force his mind away from it, block it out to not get swept up in everything Aziraphale. Besides, there was a renegade Angel to apprehend.

It only took a single sweep to locate a fast moving tangle of wings and wheels headed in a beeline for the Woods. It was almost too easy to squeeze his hand into a fist and stop Sandalphon in his tracks, wheels squeaking and wings fluttering helplessly. “Really thought you could essscape?” Crowley asked, clicking his tongue. Sandalphon let out a gasp at the voice, somehow whispered in his ear though no one was around, and as suddenly as the others, he was sent away where no one could reach him.

Reining everything back in, separating himself from the awareness of his domain, was like wading through the swamp. Sticky and messy and it didn’t want to let him go. Crowley slowly came back to himself, in clawing fits and bursts, blinking slowly in the dim dark parlour of the manor formerly inhabited by Angels. It took a few moments longer before he had enough presence of mind to start moving, still feeling like his body wasn’t quite his own. Shaking his limbs helped, a bit, but there was still the buzzing of it in his mind and an ominous wind whipped around his legs as he left.

Inky black tendrils crawled across the ground before and behind him, leaving behind shadows much darker and longer than they should rightly be. The few beings he passed gave him a wide berth or skittered into alleys to avoid him. Their fear fueled his powers, made him want to attack. To hurt and break and destroy. It was like a siren's call. 

The door of his house swung open on its own as he approached and Crowley stood in the front hall, still struggling to bring everything back to normal. He had to fight the pull to become that all-seeing and all-knowing entity again, and he was slowly losing. 

Aziraphale could feel the house trembling before he saw the fog creeping across the floors, the dimness of the lights. He left the batter for the apple spice cake he'd been planning to make and waded through the fog. It was thicker than it should be, quite like soup but still wispy at the ends. He played with it as he walked, drawing pieces up like clouds and creating shapes before letting them break away. 

“Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you'd gone off to, dearest.” He saw Crowley, eyes too bright, visibly faded at the edges as if he were a part of the shadows rather than the controlling force behind them. The claw-like tendrils loomed threateningly, ready to attack, and Aziraphale walked right up to him and bobbed up. He kissed his cheek as he swept the crown off his head, tutting. “Now this silly thing doesn't suit you at all.”

The buzzing dimmed at the feel of Aziraphale’s lips on his cheek. A grounding action that helped to bring him closer being himself again. “Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed, taking in the familiar scent of old books and cotton.

“Hello, darling. You look as if you've had an eventful time. And you're freezing,” he said briskly, setting the most obvious symbol of Crowley’s status aside as if it was a simple handbag. Then he lifted up, wrapping his arms around his neck and cuddling close. “I've turned on the oven if you'd like to curl up in a pan.” Smiling, he pressed their cheeks together. He wasn't stupid, able to see Crowley falling apart and feel the depths of threatening violence simmering too close to the surface. He didn't know why, no, but he knew his beloved needed something. Aziraphale was going to give him normalcy, to love him through whatever this was. “I'm making a cake.”

Crowley ducked his head and buried his face in Aziraphale's neck and shoulder. The contact soothed the incessant buzzing and helped settle his errant powers back where he kept them. He shook his head even as he dug numb fingers into Aziraphale’s back. “Gimme a minute.”

“As many as you need, dearest.” Aziraphale stroked his hair gently. “Even though you snuck off and worried me this morning.”

“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled. “Didn’t mean to be gone so long.” The plan had been to return before Aziraphale even woke up, which, of course, had been foiled quite spectacularly.

“I know, my sweet serpent. I did see your note.” The shadows were starting to fade, the lights in the hall buzzing lowly as the darkness steadily receded. “How about something strong to drink before you duck away into some heat?” 

Crowley nodded - alcohol sounded fantastic right about now - but made no move to let go. “Thought you were going to use the apples to make wine, not cake.”

“I started that first, and I'm baking a cake with what's left.” Aziraphale shifted just to nuzzle their brows together, noses brushing. “What did you do to the Angels, darling?”

“How do you know that’s where I was?” Crowley asked, nuzzling back, reveling in that soothing nearness.

“Because I know you very well. Who else would make you this angry?”

Crowley grumbled at him. “They deserved it.”

Aziraphale was tempted to say otherwise. Not to be contrary, but because it was his first instinct. He'd always defended the Angels in the past, but he also tended to defend most when the opportunity arose. “That's fine,” he settled on. They did deserve some form of punishment and Crowley surely hadn't killed them. Whatever he'd done, it likely hadn't been as extreme as all that. “As long as you're alright.”

“'Course I’m alright. Got you, don’t I?” Crowley tilted his head to easily kiss Aziraphale. Nevermind that he nearly hadn't been alright at all. “They’ll never bother you, or anyone, ever again.”

 _Or_ , perhaps, Aziraphale was mistaken. “Crowley, you didn't kill them.”

Crowley scoffed. “'Course I didn’t. Death would be too kind a mercy for the likes of them.”

“Then what did you do, you wily old serpent?”

He had a brief moment of panic. It wasn’t as if he’d _asked_ Aziraphale if it was alright to take this into his own hands. “Nyrgh. Mmmight’ve, you know, sent ‘em away.”

“They're still alive, then?” He waited for Crowley to nod before kissing him, something soft and sweet. “A timeout might do them some good,” he decided, unhooking Crowley’s cape. Silly, dramatic thing. It was bundled up as best as could be with Crowley refusing to release him and set aside with his crown. “Now come along. You need a drink. Then you can enjoy the oven while it preheats.”

Crowley relaxed again, giving Aziraphale a squeeze. “Or, and hear me out here, we could go back to bed.”

“You terrible, insatiable thing.” Aziraphale giggled. The shadows were gone, the mists burnt away, and he was just Crowley again. His wonderful, lovely serpent. “I suppose we could.”

That sounded like an agreement to him. Crowley lifted him up and kissed his giggling mouth. “That’s not a ‘no.’”

“My dear, you could very easily call it a yes, and you'd be correct.”

Crowley didn’t try to hide his pleased grin and wasted no time in carrying Aziraphale back to their bedroom. There was no longer any reason for his angel to be apprehensive about anything in Halloween Town. The Angels were very firmly out of the picture for the foreseeable future and they had a wedding, and the rest of their lives, to plan and enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on tumblr at [SylWritesStuff](https://sylwritesstuff.tumblr.com/) and [theladydrgn](https://theladydrgn.tumblr.com/)! 💖


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